18. Reznyk
Chapter 18
Reznyk
I CUT MY HEART OUT
M agic prickles my skin as I pull the door shut behind me, cross the room, and kneel on the floor. Despite the closed door and the pulled curtains, I hesitate as I stare at the loose board under my bed, the only one that’s not nailed down.
I left Kira in the bottom of the keep, next to the remains of the fire. But I can’t leave her there forever. Hells, every room in that decaying tower is miserable. I would know; I spent almost a month living there while I repaired this cabin. I wouldn’t wish that cold, drafty ruin on my worst enemy. And Kira?—
I sigh. Kira is, technically, my enemy. She told me she’s hunting a man who stole something, and she’s going to get it back. Hells, she twisted her own ankle to be here. She is a trap in every possible way. I need to find out what she wants and then get rid of her as quickly as possible.
But she’s alone. And she’s injured.
I bite my lip, glance back over my shoulder, and then reach forward. Magic skitters over my fingers as I push through the wards I’ve placed around this floorboard. Kira might not find it, of course. But I’m not that much of an idiot. I pry the floorboard up, then lean back on my knees.
The amulet is here, nestled in cloth resting on the black earth. My teeth sink into my lower lip as my heart thuds against my chest. The key to hiding something is to put it somewhere idiotic, right? Put it somewhere ridiculous, somewhere no one would ever think to look. And a loose floorboard under the bed has got to be the first place someone would look.
I reach for the ball of fabric. At some point I realize I’m humming that stupid tavern song under my breath, the one about cutting my heart out so you can’t hurt me anymore. I don’t stop. I feel like I’m whistling past a graveyard.
The slick, dark metal of the amulet winks up at me as I lift it from the bundle of fabric. There’s not much magic in the damn thing, I made sure of that, but still, I don’t like it. The Towers made this thing to trap magical energy, and the metal feels hungry in a way that’s deeply disconcerting. I don’t even like looking at it, much less touching it. But I can’t leave it here, just like I can’t leave Kira in the keep.
“I cut my heart out,” I whisper under my breath, the tavern song coming out in rusty, uneven tones. “Sunk it to the bottom of the sea.”
Magic skitters up my arm as my fingers close around the amulet. The metal is cool and smooth and much heavier than it looks. My arm burns as I lift it.
“I cut my heart out,” I whisper as I come to my feet. “Now there’s nothing left inside.”
I peek through the window before I leave. There’s no sign of Kira. The way she was moving, I doubt she’s left the keep. Still, I tuck the amulet beneath my cloak when I leave the cabin, and I walk quickly to the garden.
Somewhere no one would think to look. I stop at the far end of the garden, by the scraggly carrots and the pile of old wooden planks I pulled from the keep. Someday I’ll turn this scrap wood into a shed to store buckets and rakes and other garden stuff I’ve cobbled together, but for now, it’s just another heap of crap.
“I cut my heart out,” I whisper.
I get down on my knees, push the rake aside, and move a broken bucket. Then I shove the amulet between two splintering planks of wood and pull the bucket over the gap.
“So you can’t break it anymore,” I say, finishing that stupid song in a hurried whisper.
I stand up and wipe my hands on my pants. I should have left the damn thing behind, I tell myself for the thousandth time. I should have thrown it into the Ever-Reaching River, or tossed it off the top of a mountain.
But things like that have a way of coming back, don’t they?
A shiver climbs the back of my neck, and I turn toward the crumbling keep. Where I can’t leave Kira.